


Expectations

by RedLlamas



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 1940s, Cold War, Kissing, M/M, Names, Touch-Starved, Traditions, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 06:13:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21333559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedLlamas/pseuds/RedLlamas
Summary: Important moments in time demand new identities.
Relationships: Prussia/Russia (Hetalia)
Kudos: 16





	Expectations

**Author's Note:**

> Prussia is Wolfert, Russia is Ilya

"How long has it been since you last changed your name?"

Wolfert looks up at him. His fingers still on the pen and paper he was holding. He gulps, hopes Ilya won't notice.

"I don't know. I thought I was going to die. I didn't think any of this would happen."

Ilya nods, looking away. Wolfert is thankful—those deep violet eyes always seemed to pierce him in moments like this.

"You should change it. After all, this has been _quite_ the… contentious era for you," Ilya says, measuring his words carefully. Wolfert focuses back on his paper, but he can't read it, words blurring together.

"I should," he concedes. He's right. These are the moments when a rebirth of a nation is tradition, expected even.

"I don't know what to, though." His hands are trembling. He doesn't want to be here, but he lives here now. This is his house now. With… him.

Wolfert hadn't noticed Ilya get up and make his way over to his side of the table, and jumps when his hand come up softly to hold his jaw, guiding him so that he can look up at him. Ilya's other hand brushes over Wolfert's cheek, and he shivers, leaning in to the touch and hating himself for it, relishing in the touch. Ilya's hand is warm on his cold cheek.

"Hmm,” Ilya hums, hands gently holding his face. Wolfert’s eyes slide close, basking in the touch.

Ilya leans down, mouth close to his ear, and Wolfert would be lying if he said it didn’t make his skin goosebump.

“What about Gilbert?” Ilya whispers, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Perfect,” Gilbert responds, tilting his head to catch Ilya’s lips in a kiss. Ilya presses back gentler than he, but he doesn’t pay it mind. He lives here now, in Ilya’s home – he’ll have time to think about their touches.


End file.
